


Out of Focus, Eye to Eye

by unsedentary



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: F/F, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2769971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsedentary/pseuds/unsedentary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Operation Musicman' took a part of everyone involved down with it. Finding one's way back from it is a difficult, narrow path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Focus, Eye to Eye

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written and published before episode 2x06 aired, but describes some post-2x05 events based on speculation. Which was invalidated when the episode aired. As a result, it is ever so slightly AU.

It's late evening at the station when everyone else, everyone in their right mind, has cleared out, and Stella sits on a sofa in her office next to Reed, sipping tea out of Met cups with chips in the handles. 

The silence between them stretches on, not so comfortable but instead palpable, waiting for a break. Stella doesn’t know how to fix it. Both of them look straight ahead, not meeting each other’s eyes. “Sorry to have kept you here so late,” she says, and takes a sip that warms her throat. 

“That’s okay,” Reed answers, and takes a sip as well. 

“I can drive you to your hotel in just a bit.”

“Thank you, that would be lovely.”

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, if I haven’t already said so.”

“You’re welcome.”

Another silence. Stella closes her eyes.

Reed breaks it next. “I was… surprised... when you requested my services.”

Stella turns her head. “Really? Why?”

Reed meets her eyes, searching. “Can’t be a shortage of pathologists in London.” 

Stella wonders if there is meaning behind those words. There’s a shortage of you in London, she thinks. “There isn’t,” she replies instead. “But I trust you. With the work. That’s important.”

Reed averts her eyes. “Thank you. That’s a great compliment.”

“It’s good to see you again.”

Another hesitant beat. “You too.”

“How have you been?” 

“Well. Better. Work’s kept me busy. You?”

“Mm. Me too.”

Another silence stretches between them.

“How are the girls?”

Reed smiles, but it’s tight, not quite in her eyes. “They’re well. Little one is going into primary school in the autumn. Staying with their father until I’m back.”

“Good.”

Another silence.

“Thank you for the tea,” Reed says finally, standing up. “Do you mind if we leave? I’ve had a long day, came here straight from the airport.”

Stella stands, takes Reed’s cup. “Yes, sorry, of course.”

“Thank you.”

In the car, Stella remembers: the ghost of Reed’s hips between her knees, her waist under her hands, the time she drove both of them to the hospital on her motorcycle. The ghost of Reed’s warm skin underneath her, the night they spent together a few weeks later.

The trip is mostly silent. Stella wants to ask, _why can’t we just talk about Belfast._ She wants to say, _please say something real, please, even if you hate me._

She doesn’t.

****  
_  
“Are you okay?” Reed asks as they walk out of the mortuary, and Stella’s finger is poised on the remote of her newly hired car._

_“Why do you ask?” she replies, because she doesn’t think she knows the answer._

_“You look dead on your feet. You had no reason to wait for me just now.”_

_Stella looks at the car keys. “I didn’t sleep very much last night.”_

_Reed’s expression is concerned, full of sympathy. Her hand is at Stella’s elbow. “The case?”_

_Stella shakes her head slowly, leans against the hood of the car. “The case and… last night... while we were at the bar… an individual I believe to be Paul Spector invaded my hotel room.” She folds her arms and shivers, a chill hitting her face and hands._

_“Oh my god,” says Reed, hand over her mouth._

_“Yes,” Stella agrees, and pauses before continuing. “He was still there when I came back.”_

_The hand on her elbow tightens. “Oh my god, Stella, did he hurt you?”_

_Stella shakes her head. “No, he slipped away unnoticed. I believe he was hiding in the wardrobe. Must have left while I was in the bathroom. CCTV indicated ten minutes after I came back.”_

_Reed shakes her head, wearing an expression of disbelief. “Thank god.”_

_Thank god. What a funny sentiment, she thinks. Thank god a serial killer invaded my privacy last night but didn’t hurt me._

_She sighs. “He tampered with my laptop, read my personal journal. Left me an entry in it. CSIs were in there almost all night afterwards.”_

_A beat stretches between them. “Why didn’t you call me?” Reed asks, almost sadly. “You could have spent the rest of the night.”_

_Stella smiles. “Really?”_

_Even in this hour of night, with her dark complexion, Stella thinks she can see Reed flush slightly. “I - I just mean-“_

_“I know.” She covers Reed’s hand, still at her elbow, with her own. “Thank you. There was no need. I slept in my office for a few hours in the morning.”_

_Reed’s lips press together. “Where are you going now? Is your hotel secure?”_

_Stella shakes her head. “It’s secure, but I’m going back to the office. I packed a bag to stay there again. Easier that way.”_

_“Stella.” The fingers around her elbow caress, sooth. “You’ve got to get some proper rest. I have a spare bedroom. Please.” Stella doesn’t answer for a few seconds and Reed adds, “You need to take care of yourself.”_

_Stella looks at Reed, standing in front of her with a good heart and pure intentions and thinks, the world needs more Reed Smiths in it. How fortunate that she’s found hers. “If I wouldn’t be imposing. I think I’m too tired to say no at the moment.”_

_Reed smiles, trails her hand down Stella’s arm, gently takes away the car keys. “I’ll drive. Get in.”_

_Stella feels the tension drain out of her, suddenly losing grasp on that kick of adrenaline that’s kept her going all day. “Your motorcycle?”_

_“It’ll still be there in the morning.”_

_Stella falls asleep in the car, wakes up when Reed’s warm hand in on her cheek and they are safely parked at the sidewalk in front of her home. “Stella. Come on.” She dozed off with her head tilted towards her driver and now Reed’s face is very close to hers, her breath on her face. Stella blinks her way back into the waking world._

_A glance at her lips, and she feels Reed’s pressing softly against hers. She inhales sharply, her hand rising to cover Reed’s cheek, fingers threading into her hair. The kiss breaks and they go in for another, a little less soft, a little more urgent. Reed licks Stella’s lower lip, and Stella opens her mouth to let in a gently probing tongue, moans and sighs. A few more seconds, and they part slowly, silent in the dark car._

_“I thought... after yesterday… that you didn’t want this,” says Stella._

_“I just lose my nerve,” Reed replies. “I’m still anxious,” she adds with a shaky laugh._

_Stella smiles, rubs a circle on Reed’s cheekbone with her thumb. “That’s okay.”_

_“Come on,” Reed says after their gaze lingers for a bit too long._

_Stella sleeps uninterrupted until morning._  
  
****

In the morning, Stella picks up Reed from the hotel. Drives to the mortuary, where she trails behind as Dr Lutherie, grey and grim (more fit to be a school headmaster than a pathologist, Stella always thinks), tours them around the examination rooms, laboratories, refrigeration suites. She has seen them before.

She tries to think of a reason to stay longer and can’t, so she leaves Reed to the science, the work, the corpses.

Later, much later – a whole day’s work and a whole day’s frustrations later – when she’s nearly alone in the office, there’s a knock at her door and Reed stands there, holding a file folder. “I’ve got the test results from earlier.”

“You sent them through. Have you got anything new?”

Reed shakes her head slowly. Hesitates. “No, it’s what I sent. The originals. Suppose I came here for nothing, if you don’t need them.”

Not for nothing, Stella thinks. Please, not for nothing. She stands up, tilts her head to stretch her neck. “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Reed’s smile is small, uncomfortable, as if she has more to say. She leaves the papers on Stella’s desk.

In the small kitchen Reed leans against the counter beside her as Stella sets the kettle to boil and prepares two cups, sugar, milk.

“You didn’t really need me in London,” she says finally, not as an accusation, but knowingly.

Stella frowns, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Reed smiles and shakes her head. “Any pathologist could have done the exam I performed.”

In spite of herself, Stella’s heartbeat speeds up. “I needed you on this case.”

“Why?” 

“I’ve told you. I trust you with the work. It’s a... sensitive case.” She wants to say, _I needed you here, near me, your eyes, your voice._

Reed looks at her for a long beat. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Good,” stella says, but Reed keeps looking at her like – like she needs something from her. And Stella can’t look away. Their hands brush on the counter, just a finger against a finger, and –

Stella shuffles a little into Reed’s space, hesitant until Reed bites her lip ever so slightly, looks down at Stella’s and back into her eyes. And Stella slowly, slowly leans in, doesn’t hold her, gives her space to move away if she wants to. But Reed doesn’t. Her lips are warm, soft, receptive when Stella kisses her, rubs their noses together, presses her forehead against hers.

Reed sighs a little, her eyes closed, and Stella’s own exhalation is relief. She has missed Reed unbearably.

“Why didn’t you ever call?” Reed asks quietly, laying a lingering hand on the back of Stella’s collar. 

Stella shakes her head against Reed’s. “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“So instead you brought me all the way out to London?”

Stella runs her palm gently up Reed’s side – hip, waist, ribcage, shoulder. And back down, a slow caress. “I really did need an outside pathologist on this case.”

She hears Reed huff a laugh and lifts her gaze, looks at her face.

The kettle whistles before she can say anything more and the two women start apart. The moment is broken. 

Stella pours the tea. Wordlessly they mix in the sugar and milk, and carry the cups back into Stella’s office.

On the sofa where yesterday the space between them was a chasm, they bump shoulders, knees. Reed holds her cup resting on her leg, casually leaving her free hand on her thigh, brushes Stella's.

Stella doesn't miss it, but doesn't acknowledge it yet. Instead she leans her head back, sighs, crosses one leg on top of the other to press against Reed a little more, a little bit by accident, a little bit on purpose.

“I waited for you to call. I didn’t know you were leaving Belfast until you were already gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Stella says. “I thought – you barely spoke to me that last week. I thought you wanted it that way.”

Reed shakes her head. “I didn’t. I just – I didn’t know how to handle what happened.” She sighs, looks into her tea. “It was a terrible week. A terrible time.”

Stella takes her hand. “I should have understood that, probably. I tried to speak with you before I left.”

“I know,” Reed says, “I know.”

“You didn’t call me either.” 

She looks at Reed and Reed meets her eyes. “You didn’t say goodbye. I thought I was just... “ _Nothing special,_ her eyes say, and she shakes her head, averts her gaze.

Stella exhales, closes her eyes. She uncurls her fingers from Reed’s, lifts her arm to go around her shoulders instead, presses her forehead into Reed’s temple. “Don’t think that. I’m sorry I made you think that.”

Reed leans into her. “So, what now?”

“Can we try this again?” Stella asks, hopeful.

Reed slowly turns her face towards Stella’s, gently presses their lips together, sweet and lingering, then leans her head against her shoulder, and doesn’t say anything.

****  
_  
In the late afternoon hour Reed knocks on Stella’s office door, carrying a folder of files and photos. She closes the door behind her as Stella stands up to take the package._

_“The complete file on Marina McPherson. Strong evidence to suggest it was suicide.”_

_“I saw the files you sent through,” says Stella. “Have you found anything new?”_

_“No, nothing,” says Reed. “I thought you’d want to see it.”_

_Their eyes meet as Stella rounds the desk, as they spread the papers on it._

_“Anything to suggest that it wasn’t a suicide?” Stella asks._

_“I would say not. She does have unaccounted for cuts and bruises, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing I wouldn’t find on me or on you.”_

_“Well,” Stella says, closes the folder, and turns away from the desk to lean back on it. “Thank you for bringing this. You didn’t have to come all the way.”_

_Reed leans back next to her, bumps her shoulder with her own. “How are you holding up?”_

_“Steadily,” Stella says. “Anderson has been a helpful addition on the task force.”_

_Beside her, Reed nods. Squeezes her hand. Stella squeezes back. They stand in comfortable silence for a few seconds._

_“Do you have a new hotel room for tonight?”_

_Stella suppresses a smile. “I do.”_

_“Oh. Good.”_

_Stella turns towards her. “You could visit me in it.”_

_Reed meets her gaze, a hint of anticipation in her eyes. “I could?”_

_And Stella returns the same meaningful look. “Yes,” she says, and kisses Reed on the cheek. On the corner of her mouth. On her lips. She turns and presses Reed’s hips to the desk, kisses her more insistently until Reed sits back on it, her feet off the floor, and Stella can step between her knees, hold on to Reed’s thighs on either side of her and press against her. Reed’s hands weave through Stella’s hair, Stella’s tongue sweeps Reed’s mouth. Reed bites on Stella’s lower lip and Stella gasps in surprise, gasps right into her mouth without breaking away. Reed wraps one leg around Stella as she squeezes her thigh in encouragement, coaxing out a quiet moan._

_Stella can’t believe how much she wants to take this women to bed, how much she wants to hear her sigh and mewl and gasp and feel her quake underneath her. They’re both flushed when the door opens._

_“Jesus,” says Burns, rooted to the spot in surprise for a beat or two. Then he shuts the door behind him, and leaves._

_Stella buries her face in Reed’s neck and sighs, then laughs._

_“God,” Reed says, sounding mortified, and slides down to the floor. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t be doing this in your office. I shouldn’t have come.”_

_Stella shakes her head, her hand at Reed’s waist and runs her thumb under Reed’s lower lip, fixing a smudge of lip colour. “Nonsense. He’ll get over it.”_

_Reed laughs. Then says solemnly, “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite like you.”_

_Stella doesn’t know how to reply to that. She smiles and runs her fingers through Reed’s hair. Then she says, “Nor you.”_  
  
****

At the bar the next night they take a corner booth and sit next to each other, as hidden from view as they can manage. The lights are low, the changing murmurs of other patrons mixing with the music to create a lulling din. 

After they order their drinks, Stella breaks the silence between them. “I may be needed in Belfast in the next few weeks for trial proceedings. There’s a hearing being scheduled.”

“I know. I’m the lead pathologist in the case,” Reed says. “I’ve been advised as well.”

“Right, of course.”

“So we’ll see each other again,” Reed says, meeting her eyes. “In the courts.”

Stella nods, looking at her lips, brushes her fingers against Reed’s under the table. “I have missed you,” she says, because it’s true, because suddenly she’s glad to be able to say it. 

Reed smiles. “Really?”

Stella hums in affirmation as a waiter sets their drinks down in front of them – a glass of wine for Reed, a scotch for Stella. 

They sip their drinks, shuffle closer to each other. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said to me when we first met,” Reed says.

Stella raises an eyebrow. “Really? What?”

“About doubling.”

“What about it?”

Reed sets her glass on the table, looks down into her lap. “I’m a pathologist, a mother. I told you that I separate the two, to keep from thinking about my children at work, to keep from thinking about my work when I’m with them. With you...” She looks up at her. “I don’t know which self is the one that... thinks about you... all the time.”

Stella feels her heart miss a beat, feels a warmth that startles her spread through it at Reed’s words. _All the time._ She brushes their hands again, feels Reed turn hers over to press their palms together. 

“I think…” she starts. “I think you don’t have to decide. It’s not that simple.”

Reed looks back up at her, apprehensive, and Stella leans in, kisses her lightly, softly. 

“I wonder which side of me people will see when I stand next to you.”

Stella shakes her head, the tips of their noses brushing. “People will see what they want to see. They aren’t the ones who have to live it.”

Reed smiles. “Jim Burns’s face that day, God.”

Stella snorts at the memory, eyebrows arched in mild amusement. “God. He came to my office later, asked me if I intended to fuck all of the PSNI and its affiliates before the case was closed.”

Reed winces in distaste. “Oh my god, what did you do?”

“Slapped him.” She laughs a little, humourless. “Probably too hard.” 

Reed shakes her head. “God, that’s so crass.”

“He was lashing out,” she says, softening. “We’ve known each other a long time.” I think he’s been in love with me, she doesn’t say. I think I was unkind to him. He is a good man.

Reed takes another sip of her wine. 

Stella, finding her nerve, wanting to put Burns out of her mind, slides her hand along Reed’s thigh, watches her choke a little, startled, as the liquid goes down. She doesn’t quite know how to express these feelings, how to accept within herself these feelings that Reed makes her feel. She’s been alone, happily alone for too long.

“What are we doing, Stella?” Reed asks, directing her gaze at her from an inch away.

Stella doesn’t know how to answer that yet. 

“And don’t say ‘going with the flow’,” she pleads.

Stella lifts the corner of her mouth in a smile. “No, not just going with the flow.”

“I can’t bear not knowing,” Reed whispers after a second of silence

Stella kisses her again, leans against her shoulder. “I’m not... not very good at this,” she says, quietly, honestly, and hopes it isn’t entirely the wrong answer. 

Reed covers Stella’s hand with her own. “I can be good at it for both of us. If you want.”

Stella turns her hand, curls her fingers against Reed’s. _Thank you_ , she wants to say. But she nods imperceptibly against Reed’s shoulder instead.

****  
_  
In bed in Stella’s new hotel room, lying fully-clothed on the bed that hasn’t been slept in yet, Reed starts unbuttoning her own shirt. Stella covers her hands with her own and stops her. “Don’t. I want to do that.”_

_Reed smiles, stops. Instead, her fingers reach for Stella’s blouse, starting at the top. Stella mirrors the smile. “Eager, are we?”_

_“Well, I’ve got to start somewhere,“ Reed replies, slowly pulls Stella’s top out of her skirt. “This seems sensible.”_

_Stella makes a sound of agreement, reaches out for Reed’s waist and bridges the gap between their lips, kissing her without raising her head off the pillow. Reed’s fingers slow, falter on the buttons, instead rub tingles on Stella’s skin where the blouse is parted. Their noses bump. She takes her time to deepen the kiss, keeping it slow and deliberate, unhurried._

_Reed picks up the buttons again, undoes the last of them and pushes back the fabric. Her hand climbs Stella’s spine, unclasps her bra. Then slides gently under it, around to the front, and lightly caresses Stella’s breast, strokes her nipple with her thumb, feather-light and hesitant. Stella sighs into the kiss, content to let Reed take the lead, explore, be brave._

_Reed moves her hand up, lays her palm flat against Stella’s breastbone. “Your pulse is racing,” she whispers against her lips._

_“Mm,” Stella agrees, brushes their lips in a barely-there kiss._

_“So’s mine,” she whispers again, and Stella opens her eyes to meet Reed’s, large and black and wet. They conceal nothing. Apprehension, relief, hesitation, uncertainty, want, so much want._

_Stella trails her hand on Reed’s side, light and uncontrolling. “What are you afraid of?” she asks, gentle._

_Reed shakes her head. “I don’t know. Tomorrow, maybe.”_

_“Tomorrow will still come.”_

_Reed nods in agreement._

_“What do you want right now?”_

_She hesitates only for a second before responding, “You.”_

_Stella smiles. “I’m here.”_

_Reed’s lips are on hers again in a skipped beat, pushing her to lie on her back, one hand pushing the blouse off her shoulder. Stella slips her arm out of it, out of the strap of the bra, then lifts her hand to the button at the top of Reed’s shirt. But Reed halts her hand, takes her wrist and pins it above Stella’s head on the pillow._

_Surprised, she breaks the kiss, meeting Reed’s eyes in question._

_Reed’s hand isn’t gripping, isn’t hurting, but she’s asking for control, asking for Stella’s patience._ Please, let me do this.

 _Suddenly protective and unbearably aroused, Stella nods just barely._ Take your time. _She relaxes back, runs her foot along Reed’s calf, feeling confined in her narrow skirt. She can hear her own loud breaths, feel her heart in her chest._

 __Thank you, _Reed says with her eyes, and bends over her, kisses her again. Slides the blouse and bra completely off. Her hand comes back to her breast, gently petting, gently stroking._

_“Is this okay?” Reed asks, quiet, almost shy._

_“Yes,” Stella whispers back. ”Don’t worry.”_

_Reed nods, kisses Stella’s lips chastely again, then her cheek, her jaw, the pulsepoint on her throat, breathes warm air into her skin. Stella closes her eyes and sighs. It has been a while since someone cared to take their time with her. Since someone has made her feel relaxed and at ease. Since someone has asked her if she was okay._

_Reed kisses a trail down to Stella’s other breast, then licks it lightly, and Stella inhales sharply. She wasn’t sure if she would actually do it. She remembers her own first time with a woman: being afraid every move was wrong, being afraid to touch, to lick, to cross the line. How wondrous it felt to let that fear go._

_Reed pushes her knee between Stella’s slightly parted ones, as much as the skirt will allow, takes her nipple into her mouth, and Stella clenches her fists to keep from reaching out for Reed. She wants to touch her so, so badly. Reed trails her hand down her side, trembling slightly, and pulls down at the zip on the skirt when she reaches it. It goes down with a few jerks, not smoothly._

_She raises her knee, lifts her hips a little off the bed to make more contact with Reed, and Reed pushes down against her, lets her own weight sink against Stella’s, kisses the space between her breasts and breathes tremulously. Stella risks running a hand gently through her hair, not pushing or pulling in any direction._

_Reed sighs and continues sliding down, presses a wet kiss to Stella’s sternum, then pulls the skirt down, following the skin it reveals, kissing her stomach, above her navel and then just below it. She lifts her hips and Reed pulls the skirt off, adding it to the blouse and bra on the other side of the bed. Then she climbs back up, presses her lips back to Stella’s, and Stella can’t help but slide her hand into Reed’s hair, wrap her leg around Reed’s hip, open her mouth to Reed’s tongue and slide her own against it._

_Reed slides her hand down between them and touches Stella through the fabric she’s still wearing, circling, and Stella jerks in surprise, moans when she doesn’t stop, presses into Reed’s fingers._

_“Oh, god,” she exhales against Reed’s lips._

_“Good?” Reed asks, moving to nibble and lick Stella’s neck._

_“Good,” she affirms, voice unsteady. Then she slides her hand under the hem of Reed’s shirt, caresses the small of her back. “I want to see you too. Let me touch you.”_

_Reed doesn’t stop touching her but raises her head from Stella’s shoulder and finds her eyes. “Touch me, Stella.” Her voice trembles slightly._

_Stella doesn’t break eye contact as she undoes the buttons on Reed’s shirt, parts the fabric, pushes it back from her shoulders. Reed lets go of Stella, sits up and takes it off, suddenly looking unsure of herself. It’s one thing to undress another person, touch them, watch them; another to let yourself be undressed and exposed, let yourself be vulnerable._

_Stella sits up on her knees in front of her, lays a hand against her cheek and kisses her softly, gently, undemanding. Reed’s arms circle her neck as she responds. She trails her fingers up and down Reed’s side, up and down her spine, plays with the clasp of her bra. Then she unsnaps it, rubs the place where it was digging into her skin._

_Reed removes her hold on Stella to shrug off the bra, not breaking away from her lips where she lightly sucks on Stella’s lower lip before nibbling on it lightly. Stella covers her breasts with her hands, brushing, then turns Reed and pushes her back down onto the bedcover. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” she asks, as she takes a nipple into her mouth and sucks on it, grazes it lightly, licks it to sooth._

_Reed gasps, threads her fingers through Stella’s hair. “I’m thinking,” she says, strained, finding her voice again, “that this is easier than I thought it would be.”_

_Stella smiles, unsnapping the button and zip on her trousers while she repeats the attention on Reed’s other breast. “It’s not fundamentally that different from sleeping with a man,” she says, sitting up, dragging the trousers down her legs._

_Reed frowns slightly, lifts them to help her. “You don’t think so?”_

_“Well,” she amends, lying back down, pressing against Reed’s side. “It is different. But the principles are not. You want to make a connection,” she says, pressing her stomach against Reed’s hip, keeping her eyes on her face, leaning in for a kiss. “You want to touch...” She runs her hand down Reed’s stomach, to her thigh, pulls it towards her to part them._

_Reed slips her arm under Stella’s waist, pulls her closer._

_“You want to arouse...” And she slips her hand under the band of Reed’s underwear, feels Reed hold her breath next to her, and curls her fingers, just the way she knows._

_Reed rolls her head back on the pillow, moans, parts her legs a bit more. “Stella.”_

_“And you take it from there,” Stella whispers, rolling half on top of Reed, finding her mouth again, that beautiful mouth she doesn’t think she will tire of kissing._

_Reed pushes at the waistband on Stella’s underwear. “Take these off,” she says through the kiss, “Please.”_

_Stella obliges, pushing them down her hips with Reed’s help, then divests Reed of her own. “Good idea,” she says after it’s done, and her fingers find Reed again. She kneels on top of her, straddling her thigh, kisses her slowly. Reed reaches for Stella where she has been sharply aroused, presses her fingers against her, mirrors Stella’s rhythm, starts a slowly quickening pace and Stella has to break their kiss, has to lean her forehead into Reed’s shoulder and moan._

_Reed runs her free hand over Stella’s shoulder, moving against her fingers underneath her, breathing heavily and somehow sustaining her own gentle thrusts against Stella and it’s perfect, she’s perfect. “I liked you from the start,” Reed says, strained. “It scared me.”_

_Stella is touched at the confession, lifts her head again to find Reed’s eyes. “Don’t be scared of me.” She leans her forehead against hers, changes the angle of her fingers and Reed moans and gasps beneath her._

_“I’m not,” she whispers, breathy, lost in the pleasure of it._

_Stella leans forward a little on her arm to brush their breasts together, not enough to restrict their movements, and they kiss again, and there’s just this now, warm skin against warm skin and fingers sliding through slickness and arousal, and tongues and lips against each other._

_“Tell me how to help you,” Stella asks when Reed has been panting and mewling for some time, obviously close._

_Reed reaches down with her free hand, repositions Stella’s fingers slightly, and whispers, “Harder.”_

_Stella obliges, bends her head and sucks Reed’s nipple into her mouth, helping her along, and it’s a few seconds later that Reed is trembling and chokes on a moan, her breath caught on her climax, but her fingers on (in) Stella are not slowing and the whole thing is too much, Stella finds that she’s teetering off the edge and her own release hits her so hard that she loses her balance and sinks her weight into Reed, who wraps an arm around her and holds her close._

_They don’t let go as they come down together, as their breathing slows, trailing sticky fingers against each other and not caring. Under the covers, in the cool sheets, they lie in an embrace._

_“I think... I’ll miss you, when you leave,” Reed says. “When this is all over.”_

_“Well,” Stella says, wondering how it happened that she feels the same way. “It’s not quite over yet.”_

_Reed sighs beside her._

_She tightens her arms around her momentarily. “I think... I’ll miss you, too.”_

_Reed meets her eyes. “Will you?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Reed is quiet for a few seconds, and Stella can tell that she’s barely keeping her eyes open. “I’ve been meaning to visit London for a while. Maybe this summer?”_

_Stella nods against Reed’s shoulder. “And maybe... there will be... other reasons... to bring me back to Belfast.”_

_Reed, on the edge of sleep, mutters, “Good, then.”_

_“Good,” Stella agrees._  
  
****

The alarm clock rings and the room is dark, the thick curtains covering the windows.

Reed moans. “Switch it off.”

“It’s on your side,” Stella says, not opening her eyes. 

She feels Reed reach forward, then press against her again, her back to Stella’s chest. She passes the alarm clock back. 

Stella snorts, takes it and switches it off, leaves it on the blanket in front of them. She presses her face into Reed’s hair, inhales.

“I’m not used to waking up with someone else,” Reed says, still sleepily.

“Mm. Nor I,” Stella says, and momentarily pulls Reed tighter, her arm over the comforter. “Any complaints?”

Reed moans. “Perhaps only about the early hour.” 

Stella closes her eyes, tries to float in the dream space for another minute without falling back asleep completely. “We’ve got some time.”

Reed turns in her arms. “We should get up, shower.”

“In a bit,” Stella says, and leans forward for a kiss. They haven’t brushed their teeth yet, but really, Stella finds she doesn’t care.

They break apart and lie facing each other, smiling quietly. 

“How long have you been divorced?” Stella asks.

Reed bites her lip, thinking. “About five years now. No grand reason, just... wasn’t working anymore.”

Stella’s silent for a moment before speaking. “I feel like I’ve been married to my work.” 

They’re quiet for a few more seconds. Comfortable.

“I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you in Belfast,” Reed says suddenly, her tone sad, apologetic, and Stella’s pulse picks up. 

Finally, finally. _Can we just talk about Belfast._

“It’s all right,” she says. “Don’t apologise. You were grieving.” She trails a finger down Reed’s cheek. “I was shaken by it too. It was... a tragedy, what happened.”

Reed nods. “I look at my girls sometimes and think about Nancy. And I can’t bear it.”

Stella closes her eyes, her heart clenching at the thought. “I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry that I didn’t protect Rose better.” 

Reed touches her cheek now. “You couldn’t have known.”

Stella feels Reed move closer. “I thought you didn’t want to see me because of it. Because I was connected. I’ll always be connected.” A beat, and she adds: “That’s probably selfish.”

Reed glances away, meets her eyes again. “No, I might have come to the same conclusion too. “ She’s quiet for a while. Then says, “But it’s not why I stayed away.”

Stella waits, gives her time to think about her words.

“I felt so guilty. I still feel guilty. If I hadn’t told you about Rose-“

Stella wraps her arms around Reed, wanting to right all the wrongs in her world and feeling acutely helpless. “You aren’t responsible.”

She closes her eyes, leans against her. “I know we can only blame him. The killer. But I felt like –“ She takes a deep breath. “Guilty that I was alive. Because... how could I be happy... when Rose could never again be happy?” Her voice cracks on the last syllable.

Stella feels her heart break. She kisses the top of Reed’s hair, cradles her. 

Nothing else is said. They doze off a little, until Stella really needs to get up and leaves Reed asleep in the bed. She ties her silk robe around her waist, brushes her teeth, puts the kettle and the coffee on. 

Reed is up and brushing her teeth in Stella’s spare robe when Stella comes back into the bedroom. She stands there, in the bathroom doorway, watches her.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Reed says after rinsing her mouth, pointing to the robe. “It was hanging on the hook.”

Stella smiles. “No, you look good in my clothes.” 

Reed smiles back. “That’s such a cliché. I expected better from you.”

The mood lightens, the pain of their earlier conversation swept aside for the moment. 

They will work through it.

“Well,” Stella says, turning on the water in the shower, then turning back around with an eyebrow raised. “Joint showers are a sort of cliché. You can wait your turn.” And she unties her robe, lets it drop to the floor, not breaking eye contact. 

Reed’s smile falters as she watches.

Stella tests the water, then steps in, waiting to see what Reed will do. She smiles when she sees her undress from the corner of her eye. She hangs both robes up on the hooks on the wall, then slides the shower door open and closed behind her, pressing against Stella to share the warm cascade.

“I wish we had another day,” she says, running her palms over Stella’s ribcage.

“Me too,” Stella says. “How are we going to do this?”

Reed, with her palms on either side of her face now, says, “One visit at a time,” and kisses her thoroughly and decidedly. 

****  
_  
Snap. Snap. Snap._

_Stella stretches the hair band on her wrist. Lets go. Metal bind slaps against her skin. Again. Once on the inhale, once on the exhale._

_Under the cuff of her jacket, so no one can see. All the way to the scene she sat in the car, hands clasped, snapping the band. McNally didn't ask for it back and she didn't realise it was still on her wrist until they were on their way, Anderson driving, Eastwood next to him, and Stella in the back._

_She stands outside the car now, the cold air burning her lungs, and watches the forensic teams examine the burnt out shell of Spector's old vehicle._

_No one can outwit death._

_She thinks back to the beginning, to flying into this city with her London arrogance, the sway in her hips, ready to bring justice. She should have known better, at her age. After all she's seen. All the victims she's interviewed; all the victims who could not be interviewed - ever.  
There is no justice. Evil-doers can be punished, but evil cannot be undone._

_Up on the hill is the cabin where they find Rose, her hands behind her back and her feet tied to the legs of her chair. No strangulation marks around her neck. Just... left to die of dehydration, of starvation, of cold. Of shock and fright and hopelessness._

_In a full forensic suit and mask she faces Reed later. Their eyes meet, each standing on either side of the body. The expression on her face is hard to discern through the mask. They take meticulous notes – they give Rose the objective, clinical eye she deserves. They allow her to be carried away carefully, with dignity. They are momentarily alone in the cabin, before the CSIs come in for another sweep, with their cameras and dusters and lamps._

_Stella stands beside Reed and brushes their fingers together. “I’m so sorry.”_

_Reed takes her hand for a moment, squeezes it, but then moves her hand away. Steps away. Shakes her head. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this right now.”_

_Stella thinks back to what Rose said in the video:_ I love and I am loved, and nothing you can do can take that away. __

_Reed follows the others out and Stella looks around. This is where she, where all of them left Rose alone to die._

_Reed spends the night processing the body, testing, cataloguing, cutting and stitching._

_In the morning, Stella - who has slept in fifteen minute spurts on plastic chairs all night, between updates at the mortuary and statements from the CSIs and Katie Benedetto finally speaking - tells her to go home, go to bed._

_Reed shakes her head at the entrance to her office. “I have more work to do. Sofa in here will do.”_

_Stella looks into her eyes, the eyes that hold nothing back, none of the sadness and none of the guilt, and tries to tell her:_ it’s not your fault. It’s mine. _“I have to go see Tom,” she says instead._

_Reed is quiet for a few seconds. “I kept telling him not to lose hope.”_

_Stella sighs. “That was the right thing to say.”_

_Reed nods, averts her eyes, crosses her arms. “I have more work to do.” Her tone is almost apologetic, mostly pleading:_ please just go. __

_She puts a hand on Reed’s shoulder, but Reed doesn’t react._

_She feels the space between them deepen, grow, expand._ How did we get here? __

_Reed is professional all week, silently sending faxes, silently continuing the work, silently grieving for her friend. She spends time with Tom and his children, with her own children. Stella comes to see her at the mortuary the night before her flight, allowed into the building by the last person leaving, and finds Reed leaning over Rose’s body, covered to the neck with a sheet. She is being released to the family tomorrow._

_Stella wraps an arm around her shoulders and Reed turns into her, falls apart, sobs until Stella’s blouse is soaked with tears, until she can’t hold herself up any longer and they sink to the tiled floor, Stella’s tears silent as Reed hiccoughs in her arms._

_They don’t say anything, they don’t say goodbye._  
  
****

Belfast is chillier than London at this time of year, sunlight more precious and spare. The airport is smaller. Stella pulls a small wheeled suitcase behind her out of the terminal. 

She pauses, searches the crowd in the arrivals hall. Reed stands further back, searching. When she spots her, when their eyes meet, she breaks into a smile - a real smile, radiant and happy. It suits her, Stella thinks, and smiles back. Then she bridges the distance between them, crossing the room, stopping in front of her. Not touching her, not yet.

“Hi,” Reed says, still smiling, keys dangling from her fingers.

“Hi,” she answers.

“Flight was okay?”

“Perfect.”

“Good.”

They look at each other for a few seconds, not saying anything else, then laugh. Reed takes her hand, pulls and Stella leans in for an embrace, wraps her arm around Reed’s shoulders and inhales the scent of her hair.

“Did you miss me?” Reed whispers.

“Like a hole in the head,” Stella whispers back, feels Reed quake with silent laughter.

They allow themselves a few more seconds, then slowly break apart, keeping their hands joined.

“I’m afraid my case might not fit on your motorbike,” Stella says, pointing to the keys in Reed’s other hand.

Reed shakes her head. “No problem, came prepared. Drove my mum’s car here for you.”

“How awful.”

“Mm. Do you have any more baggage?”

“No, I’m ready to go.”

“Good,” Reed says, and turns to lead her towards the exit. “Come on then, Detective Superintendent Gibson. Busy week ahead of us.”

“Busy week, really?” Stella asks, following behind, amused. “We’re not due in court til Thursday.”

Reed turns around and says, “Oh, I’ll think of something.”

Stella smiles, lets the air outside hit her face, cool and refreshing.


End file.
